CREATIVE NON - FICTION

Ink, Promises, and the Art of Letting Go

I grew up believing love was something you had to earn. My father left early enough for his absence to become normal, but late enough for it to hurt. I learned how to be independent too soon and how to accept silence as affection. Because of that, I searched for love that stayed—something solid enough to replace the empty space I carried. I didn’t know then that this hunger would make me hold onto people even when they were already slipping away.

When Dan entered my life, it felt like the universe was finally answering me. His favorite way of loving was through words of affirmation and handwritten cards that carried his feelings in ink. He noticed me before I noticed myself. Those letters made me feel chosen, protected, and understood. For the first time, love felt safe instead of heavy. I thought maybe this was healing maybe this was proof that someone could stay without being begged. I wrapped my broken pieces in his words and believed they were strong enough to hold me together.

When our relationship started to feel toxic, the pain felt familiar, almost cruelly familiar. Still, when he wrote to me again, hope returned quietly. I told myself love deserved another chance. But after my graduation, I received one final letter long, honest, and devastatingly calm. He wrote not to ask me to stay, but to let me go. That was the moment that shocked me the most: realizing that the person who once promised to never leave had already left long before he said goodbye.

That night, while rereading his old letters, something inside me broke and healed at the same time. It became clear that the loss was not a reflection of my worth. Some people leave not because you are unlovable, but because they are no longer able to love the way you need. The pain slowly shifted into clarity. For the first time, I stopped waiting to be chosen and began choosing myself.

Love should never feel like chasing, begging, or proving one’s worth. Words can create comfort, but only consistent actions can sustain a heart. A broken past does not mean broken love is deserved. From my experience, the right kind of love will not feel temporary or uncertain it will stay without being asked. And perhaps the most important realization of all is the love I had been searching for in letters was something I had to give to myself first, as Deve, whole and finally at peace.